


But I Knew Him

by alonsos



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Diary/Journal, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Reincarnation, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5368403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alonsos/pseuds/alonsos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras keeps seeing Grantaire on the street but never gets to him fast enough.</p><p>Grantaire catches the gaze of a blonde stranger time after time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Truths

**Author's Note:**

> Switches between Enjolras' POV and Grantaire's journal entries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire POV

_(therapy required journal. December 2, 2013. “write down things that are true.”)_

_1\. Notre Dame is prettier under a stormy sky._

_2\. The eyes of the woman on the train were my mother’s eyes. She blinked and the moment was gone._

_3\. The coffee burned my tongue this morning._

_4\. I think I like Christmas a little more this year._

_5\. Flights to Rio are cheap right now._

_6\. A man caught my gaze from across the street. He reminded me of lightning, the kind you’d see in the middle of a blizzard._

_7\. For the first time in years I felt the urge to paint._


	2. Out of Reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras POV

(December 2, 2013)

It was him, there’s no doubt.

I had looked up and caught the gaze of a dark haired man standing on the other side of the road. He gave me a small, polite smile before he headed in the other direction. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it but for the gentle curve of his lips— and suddenly I am flooded with a thousand memories. Stolen glances, warm embraces, the softest kisses. The sound of his laugh. 

The way his hand feels in mine as we face Death together. 

And after so many empty years (and empty wishing) I recognize him standing on a sidewalk directly in front of me. He is more real than any daydream could ever conjure, I could touch him if not for the line of traffic between us and the roar of the city drowns out my call to him and he does not know who I am and he is walking away from me, _from us_ — 

I couldn’t cross the street in time and just like in my dreams he is gone.


	3. Entries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire POV

_(therapy required journal. February 6, 2014)_

_I told my doctor this journal is less grating than to used to be. She smiled and told me I was doing well. Progress, she reminded me._

_(February 9, 2014)_

_The sound of the snow under my boots has always been quiet music to me. The people of Paris huddle under their coats and head for their homes but I do not mind the cold. The wind against my face is familiar and I wander._

_(February 15, 2014)_

_As I was waiting for the train today I saw desperation. I glanced up from my book and met the eyes of a blond man across the platform who looked as though something had slipped from his grasp. He was frantic, though not like the strung-out human beings who remind me of what I once was. This man was different. He was clearly startled and just as I wondered to myself if he needed help, he reached out in my direction. There was no mistake, he was completely focused on me, and he started to open his mouth as if to tell me something…_

_The image of his outstretched hand vanished as the train rushed forward, separating us._


	4. Helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras POV

(February 15, 2014)

The familiar sound of the trains reverberated in my shoes. The only thing that was not routine about this was the time: like clockwork I am always on my way home by five in the evening. It is nearly eleven (evidence of the intensifying rush of my job) but I do not mind. I am absorbed in details, already planning tomorrow’s work when I look up.

I am frozen. I’m reminded of a day late last year when I caught the gaze of a man across the street. 

Not just any man. The same one is standing across the platform.

I have thought about it every day since then but my mind does not do him justice. Like my nearly two-hundred year old memories, I am terrified that I will start to forget the image of him. 

The live detail of him is startling for someone who obsesses over fleeting memories. He is engrossed in the book he is holding, and from here I can see that it is old and dog-eared. The dark curls that fall out of his hat look just as soft as I remember them to be. His hands (oh god I can _remember_ them so well) have splotches of paint on them. He doesn’t seem to mind that he does not have any gloves on. The line of his shoulders, even under the hoodie he wears, is so familiar and it is so easy to picture him in the same thin white shirt he used to— 

And suddenly his eyes are meeting mine once again. My mouth falls open, I am in a daydream. I reach for him. _Surely this cannot be real._

But it is, and he is truly there, brow furrowing in concern at me. I have the sense not to launch myself across the platform at him but the sound of the oncoming train only heightens my desperation. 

“Grantaire-“ I cry out, a moment too late. My hand is still stretched out, grasping at nothing as the train obstructs the image of him. 

Agonizing moments pass.

When the train pulls away the absence of him scorches me.


	5. Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras POV

(March 19, 2014)

I haven’t stopped thinking about him. My heart races at the sight of a dark-haired man on the street, but this is Paris, and all of them seem to have books and hoodies and hats. I cannot logically expect to see him again (but that does not stop me from wishing. I do not stop wishing for a single second).


	6. Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire POV

_(personal journal. May 3, 2014)_

_Every once in a while there is a moment when I feel as though I’m forgetting something. It goes along with the irrational childhood fear of showing up for a test and remembering you haven’t studied, only worse. I sometimes get the sense that I’m missing several pieces of a puzzle but I won’t know how many until I complete it and see what I don’t have. By then it’s too late and…_

_I don’t know. I wouldn’t call it a trance, but I sink into that feeling and then suddenly emerge. I go on. Life goes on._

_(June 5, 2014)_

_The sun is nice here in Brazil. As much as I love home I’m glad I finally bought the plane ticket. When I go to sleep at night I don’t feel like I’m being chased by ghosts. The sand under my feet is indescribable and for once I am glad to fall into an addiction. I could get used to this. It makes me forget I used to be addicted to far worse things than the sound of the ocean._


	7. Constant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras POV

(June 5, 2014)

Today I am haunted by more memories than I can keep track of. 

I pray to anyone that is listening.


	8. Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire POV

_(personal journal, August 29, 2014)_

 _I started painting again on New Years. The sight of the fireworks that night made me smile-_ really _smile- and I realized that I had conquered enough demons to stop hiding. So I picked up the paintbrush again. I only realized today how long I had been doing it and it’s nice to finally see evidence of my recovery (I hate that word)._

_I met someone recently. He has hair almost as dark as mine and eyes so green you could get lost in them. I do get lost, constantly. Yet when I felt the desire to paint him I got the strange sensation that something was wrong. I don’t know how to describe it._


	9. Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras POV

(September 1, 2014)

Despite the fact that it’s my birthday party I can’t stop thinking about him. I’m not moping, although Courfeyrac said I am when he thought I couldn’t hear him. I escape to the balcony not long after that. 

Combeferre, unfailingly kind, finds me after an hour.

“If you need to talk, I’m here.”

The sounds of the city do not distract me. Combeferre sits down beside me after a minute.

“Enjolras.”

There is a couple on the street below. They lean against each other. The ache in my chest worsens.

“Do I need to get Joly?”

I break out of my daze. “Do you remember when we met, Combeferre?”

“If you mean-“

“I mean now. When we met and realized who we were.”

He paused. “Yes, it’s something I still cannot wrap my head around. Why?”

The words I had ready to tumble out of my mouth disappear. I feel like a drowning man.

“Enjolras?”

_I am broken._

“I see him _everywhere_ and I never reach him—“ My voice cracks and I bury my face in my hands.

“You see… You see Grantaire?” Combeferre asks after a few moments, stunned. “You’re sure it’s him?”

I nod.

“Has he seen you?”

“He doesn’t know me.” I cannot form any more sentences. For once, we are both at a loss for words.

Minutes pass, maybe hours. The sound of the city below and the feel of Combeferre’s hand on my shoulder anchors me to reality.

He breaks the silence first. “I don’t think you should assume he won’t ever remember. After all, it took a while for us to come together again. I didn’t think Feuilly would ever remember but then he strolled in that day like nothing had changed.”

He doesn’t say the words that I am thinking, that months are much different than years. We have been reunited for seven years (but _his_ absence burns. It’s not the same without him).

“If he doesn’t come around, it doesn’t invalidate the past.”

I close my eyes.


End file.
